He leaned against the trunk because despite the weak facade, Ruth was out of what little energy he had. Frankly, if his Father had told him to get down he’d have had to fall out the tree and he doubted anyone would be happy with this, himself included. Ruth exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. The climb up had felt like a herculean task, his limbs still leaden from the events of the wedding. He tried to mask his fatigue as Kellam settled below him, though his trembling hand betrayed the effort it took to keep holding the half-rolled cigarette steady.
When his father began his climb, Ruth’s eyes flickered with surprise, a ghost of his younger self surfacing at the sight. Had Kellam ever done this before? Followed him, instead of hauling him out of a tree by force. It seemed wrong, like seeing a fish trying to climb a mountain instead of standing proudly at its base. Ruth had spent his youth seeing Kellam as unmovable, a fixture in his life as solid as the ground beneath his feet. Yet here he was, swaying slightly on a branch, looking for all the world like a man trying something unfamiliar and maybe a little foolish.
Ruth bit back the reflexive urge to tell him not to bother, but what would’ve been the point? Instead, he let the sarcasm that rose to his lips fall flat.
His shoulders slumped. Maybe it wasn’t worth trying to keep the edge up anymore. It wasn’t useful to waste what little energy he had trying to. Tugging the edges of his coat closer, as though the weight of it might shield him from the expected intensity of Kellam’s gaze.
The words his father finally spoke cut through the silence, “You look like her.” Ruth flinched, his first real reaction since Kellam arrived, but said nothing at first. His eyes darted to some point beyond the garden, far past the edge of the tree and the quiet that followed was heavy. Ruth felt his father’s unspoken emotions pressing against him, tangible and raw in a way he wasn’t used to, causing the younger Yoesif to shift uncomfortably.
“What now?”
Ruth shrugged, his response slow and deliberate.
He sighed, resting his head back against the trunk, his cigarette forgotten in his lap.
@Kellam Yoesif
When his father began his climb, Ruth’s eyes flickered with surprise, a ghost of his younger self surfacing at the sight. Had Kellam ever done this before? Followed him, instead of hauling him out of a tree by force. It seemed wrong, like seeing a fish trying to climb a mountain instead of standing proudly at its base. Ruth had spent his youth seeing Kellam as unmovable, a fixture in his life as solid as the ground beneath his feet. Yet here he was, swaying slightly on a branch, looking for all the world like a man trying something unfamiliar and maybe a little foolish.
Ruth bit back the reflexive urge to tell him not to bother, but what would’ve been the point? Instead, he let the sarcasm that rose to his lips fall flat.
Mythal’s Balls, if you fall and break your neck, I’ll have to listen to Megara say it’s my fault. Like always.He didn’t bother inflecting humor, the words slipping out with as much energy as it took to roll his tired eyes.
His shoulders slumped. Maybe it wasn’t worth trying to keep the edge up anymore. It wasn’t useful to waste what little energy he had trying to. Tugging the edges of his coat closer, as though the weight of it might shield him from the expected intensity of Kellam’s gaze.
The words his father finally spoke cut through the silence, “You look like her.” Ruth flinched, his first real reaction since Kellam arrived, but said nothing at first. His eyes darted to some point beyond the garden, far past the edge of the tree and the quiet that followed was heavy. Ruth felt his father’s unspoken emotions pressing against him, tangible and raw in a way he wasn’t used to, causing the younger Yoesif to shift uncomfortably.
It's not like I can help, how I look.
“What now?”
Ruth shrugged, his response slow and deliberate.
Hell if I know. I’m not allowed to make any decisions until she gets back from her honeymoon. I apparently make too many bad ones.His voice cracked halfway through, the strength behind it faltering like his legs after the seizure that had left him in this state. He glanced at his father, wary and tired. There were no quips this time, no sly remarks. The exhaustion was too deep, too rooted in his bones to muster the energy for more than the truth.
He sighed, resting his head back against the trunk, his cigarette forgotten in his lap.
You came all the way here for a reason. You’ve got the floor. Go ahead and say what you need to say.
@Kellam Yoesif
11-24-2024, 10:22 AM
